Infinite: A Different Take
by Mewtong
Summary: Sometimes, all you need is just one more chance to get it right.
1. The Beginning

Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt. The words thrashed and slammed against the edges of Booker DeWitt's thoughts, as turbulent and unyielding as the vicious storm he was being ferried through.

"I'm getting tired, will you help me row?"

He examined the photograph once more; she was striking, beautiful with an air of innocence about her, he thought. Putting the picture back in the briefcase, he examined the rest of its contents; his trusty Broadsider, fully loaded.

"Now now, this was your idea in the first place, it's only fair that you should do the work."

A drawing of what looked to be a scroll, a key, and a sword was the next item, with the numbers 1, 2, and 2 next to them. … I hate cryptic nonsense, Booker thought, replacing the drawing. Finally, he pulled out an ornate key. _Maybe this will get me in to where they're keeping the girl,_ Booker thought, stashing the key in his right front coat pocket.

"Be that as it may, it's not very easy navigating to a point in the middle of the ocean during a storm, whilst being the only one rowing."

"Well, you could always ask him to row."

Booker was pulled from his thoughts upon hearing mention of him. _If they wanted me to row, they should have said so well before now._

"No, it wouldn't be any use, he doesn't row."

"He doesn't _row?"_

_What is with these two, talking as if I'm not even here. Well, I won't give them the satisfaction of asking what they're on about. _

"No, he _doesn't _row."

"Oh, why didn't you say so then?"

Thankfully, a lighthouse appeared on the left, their destination. One of Booker's two companions steered the boat over to the dubious looking dock. Briefly pausing to stow away the rest of the contents of the briefcase on his person, Booker then climbed up the wooden ladder next to the boat. _Why don't I see anyone else here? _He thought, looking up and down the dock.

"Hey, is someone going to meet me here?" Booker shouted, just barely audible over the rain and wind increasing in intensity. The boat was nearly out of sight now, taking his last chance to turn back with it.

"I certainly hope so, that seems like a dreadful place to be stranded."

"Shit. Well, no place to go but up." he said, and began walking the path toward the lighthouse. As he neared the doors to the lighthouse, he saw a note stuck to the front. "Last chance huh? Funny, that's how I feel about this job too." He said, pushing the door open and walking inside. A cryptic verse stared back at him from across the way, and Booker also noticed a wash basin.

_A chance to cleanse my sins? Sorry buddy, a bit too late for that. _

Continuing onward, he began to smell something foul, and getting stronger with every step upward he took. Finally he reached the second floor; the odor was overpowering, and Booker saw the cause. A man with a bag over his head sat dead on a chair, with a pool of his own blood surrounding him.

"Shit." Upon closer examination, he saw that the man was bound to the chair, with various torture devices on the desk next to him. _Hope that guy wasn't my contact, else I'm screwed._ Booker thought, and continued onward, stopping only to pick up a few coins he saw along the way.

"Huh, Silver Eagles? Never heard of these damn things, but they look to be worth a pretty penny." He thought out loud, pocketing them and climbing the second set of stairs.

He had finally arrived at the top of the stairs, and the top of the lighthouse. Booker searched around, but couldn't find anything apart from the light in the center. On the door were three symbols which seemed very familiar to him. "Scroll, key, sword… some sort of puzzle." He said, taking the drawing out of his coat pocket. Moving toward the pictures, he hit the scroll once, the key twice, and then finally the sword twice. Nothing happened.

"Well, that was certainly anticlimat-"

Suddenly, a loud noise permeated the storm, echoing for miles and nearly knocking Booker down.

"What the hell was that?" he said to himself, before there was a red hue to the sky, and a returning noise of equal magnitude emanating from the very heavens themselves. The room at the top of the lighthouse began making grinding noises, as a trapdoor opened up, bringing a red chair up to the top, complete with restraints. Then, all was silent.

"Huh, guess they want me to sit in their fancy chair." Booker said. _I don't much like the looks of those restraints, but if this is the only way to get to the girl… _he thought, as he made his way over to the chair. With some trepidation he climbed in to the surprisingly comfortable chair, only to find his heart racing as the restraints snapped expertly into place.

"Son of a-"

Anything else Booker said was lost in a din of gears and whirring as the space around him came to life, enclosing him in a metal tube. The chair briefly tilted forward, and his Broadsider slid out of his holster, just as a fire seemed to ignite directly underneath him.

"Fuck, somebody's going to die for this!" he shouted, as a mechanical voice rung in the tube.

"Ascension in 5, 4, 3-"

"No Shit No God Damn-"

"2, 1, 0-"

And suddenly Booker was breaking through the clouds, looking at a view that many would call life changing.

"Hallelujah."

But he was focused on one aspect of the floating city in particular. _There it is, the monument where the girl is being kept. Looks like it's easy enough to spot, so how hard can it be to get to?_ He thought, unaware of the trials that awaited him in the floating city below.


	2. City of Wonder

Chapter 2: City of Wonder

The makeshift rocket touched down in its intended location, and released Booker from the chair.

"About damn time, felt like my arms were about to fall off." He remarked, rubbing his wrists and glaring at the pod that brought him into the city. _All right, time to find out where the hell I am. _He thought, making his way down the stairs. A pool of foot high water greeted him at the bottom, as well as statues and angelic music.

"The hell is wrong with this place.." Booker muttered as he noticed flower petals dancing around his feet as he trudged through the water. He spotted a man dressed in a white robe, head bowed in peace. "Hey buddy, mind telling me where we are?" he asked, gesturing toward the room.

"Heaven brother, or at least as close as we are able to come to it for now." _Great, devout worshippers probably of this guy too._ Booker thought, staring up at a statue of an older man.

"Father Comstock, our prophet and leader…" "Ah yes, Father Comstock is indeed a glorious man, without him Columbia would not be what it is today!"

"Columbia eh? All right, how do I get into the city?" Booker asked, facing the man in the robe. "To do that brother, you need only be saved, and brought into the healing waters of our fair city through the renouncing of your sin!" he finished excitedly, waving his arms.

"All right all right, I'll go down there and see what it's all about then." He said. _Damned if I want to spend more time with these religious fanatic types, but if they are the only ones to grant me entry to the city… _with that thought sustaining him, Booker headed downstairs, where he was granted a view of many pilgrims making their way through waist deep waters. _And at the end there is the way into the city. _

He made his way through the water, coming to a stop at a circle of men, all listening to one man in front of the exit.

"Who hear will take the pledge to be born again? Who here will be cleansed in the waters of our lord, to re-emerge in our fair city of Columbia a new man, a devoted man?"

_Well, it's either go through with the baptism or get violent, and I'd like to get this job done with as little bloodshed as possible. _He thought, before stepping up out of the circle.

"I am ready to gain passage into Columbia." Booker said, staring at the priest. The priest seemed to look through him, before clasping his hand. "I welcome you my child, and congratulate you on renouncing your old ways before god himself, and our holy prophet!"

"And now, I wash away your sins, and baptize you in the name of our prophet, Father Comstock!"

The priest suddenly pushed Booker deep beneath the water, and only brought him back up again when he felt as if he was about to pass out.

_Fucker. _He thought as he gagged and struggled to regain his breath.

"I don't know brothers, I think this one could use more cleansing!" the priest shouted, before reaching for Booker's head yet again. He reacted without thinking, grabbing the priests hand and snapping it at the wrist.

Without a single glance back he ran down the passageway toward Columbia, the man's screams echoing along the length of the tunnel. "Probably wasn't the smartest move Booker." he said, thinking of the possible repercussions.

_Well, things were bound to heat up sooner or later; I just chose to up the ante first. _He thought, right as he reached the end of the tunnel. For a second the sunlight blinded him, but as he adjusted he noticed more statues in the courtyard he came out in. _Washington, Jefferson… seems these fanatics worship the first few presidents too… oh yeah; this is going to be trouble._

Booker walked through the courtyard unmolested, which surprised him. "Welcome to Columbia brother." A passing white robe said, as yet another nodded toward him and smiled. _Seems like word hasn't reached them yet about what I did to their pseudo-leader. _He quirked the side of his mouth upward. _Let's see how long I can stay ahead of the mob before they come crashing down on me._

He walked along the path provided in the garden, picking up silver eagles and food wherever he found them. _These folk sure are free with their cash and food, must be doing pretty well for themselves up here._ Finally, he came to a door, signaling the end of the courtyard. "Now… the real festivities begin." Booker said, and pushed open the door, coming out in the streets of Columbia.

"What's this, a dead end?" he remarked, seeing no way forward. As if in response to the question, the platform he was on floated toward a street, locking them together. _Well I'll be. _He walked onto the new platform in front of him, testing the strength.

"Feels as if I've got the Earth itself under my feet." Booker remarked to no one in particular, walking toward the square where a new statue resided. _Father Comstock again? Seems the man has quite the following if they're off building monuments and statues after him. _As he passed, people greeted him as one of their own.

"Hey pal, great day we're having eh?" one man remarked as Booker passed.

"Nice, yeah." He replied, feeling mildly uneasy. He heard some whispers from a group of women sitting on a bench as he passed by, and strained to hear the topic.

"-Oh, but I'd love to get my hands on that one, he's a catch!"

"Now Beatrice, you know Mother would never approve of his type, dashing and roguish-"

_Nice to know people still find me attractive, but I have more important things to do right now. _He thought, feeling in his pocket for the picture of the girl yet again. In the light of the sun Booker could better examine the picture and took note of her blue eyes, which radiated warmth and compassion..

_All right Booker, get yourself together. _He put away the photograph and shook his head. _Step one: find out how to get to that monument. _And with that in mind, he headed toward a group of people, being held back by a barrier. As he approached, he heard music, and saw three floating platforms cross the crowd's line of sight.

"A vision of a great city… The Sodom below?" Booker stared at the barges, and read the final one. _A child is born; the future of the city is secure? Seems these people put too much faith in blood._

As the last of the parade ended the barriers were removed, and he continued onward. As he passed the buildings, he noticed a poster on one of them. _The false shepherd, come to lead the lamb astray? I guess everyone needs a devil to vilify, keeps the populous scared and compliant._

He finally reached the end of the street, and went through the gate leading toward his destination. The monument he was headed toward towered over the city, looking on as an impartial witness to its crimes and accomplishments.

"Telegram! Telegram sir!"

_The devil? _Booker looked down from the angel, and saw a small boy eagerly holding up a piece of paper at him.

"Telegram for Mister DeWitt sir!"

"All right kid, settle down." He said, taking the paper and tossing an eagle at the kid. "Gee, thanks mister!" he said, running off down a side alley. Booker turned the paper over, and read.

"Do not alert Comstock to your presence, do not pick #77… Who the hell is Lutece?" he asked, finishing the letter and discarding it in a nearby trash bin. _I don't know what's going on here, but I know advice meant to save me trouble when I see it._


End file.
